


Experiment

by codswallop



Series: Variables [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Kink Negotiation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codswallop/pseuds/codswallop
Summary: He was almost sure Patrick would try it if he asked him to. The trouble was, he didn’t want to ask.





	Experiment

David had been fantasizing a lot about getting spanked by Patrick, lately.

He was almost sure Patrick would try it if he asked him to. The trouble was, he didn’t want to ask. He wanted Patrick to just do it: seize control, make him give in to it, bend David to his will. Literally. It was part of the whole fantasy. But it wasn’t reasonable or fair of David to expect it, he knew, and maybe he would get around to asking for it, one of these days; in the meantime, it amused him to see how close he could get Patrick to doing it without having to be asked.

There was that time Patrick had actually swatted him with a folder, right in front of his mother, even; that was what had first put the idea into David’s head that Patrick could be into it. Patrick had occasionally given him light teasing taps to the backside with other things, too: a feather duster, a paperback book. Most electrifying of all, he’d even smacked him with an open palm once, passing by him at the store when David was leaning over the counter daydreaming about nothing, not even angling for it. “Get to work,” Patrick had said. “You said you’d unpack those boxes of hand cream this afternoon, remember?” 

David still thought about that one sometimes, usually with his hand on his dick when he was in a rush and needed to get off quickly. _Make me,_ he could have said, or better yet, _What if I don’t? Are you going to make me?_ , and then maybe Patrick might have taken him into the back room and bent him over the table, _yeah, I’m gonna make you, David,_ and yanked his pants down and given him what he deserved. 

So now David was angling for it. He’d quit wearing the skirted pants, for the time being. He leaned over a lot. He had a decent ass, he thought, maybe not as nice as some he’d seen, but at least an eight, and he’d taken to doing more squats lately, in case it was on the flat side. And then one week he started being extra bratty, just to see if he could set Patrick off that way. He complained about getting up in the morning, lying backside-up in bed with his face in the pillows. He put off doing the dishes when it was his turn until Patrick reminded him, and then whined about it; he stayed extra long at the cafe when he went for a coffee break, and forgot to bring back Patrick’s tea when he returned.

Finally, after days of this, Patrick snapped. “You know, you’ve been a total pain all this week,” he said, when David complained again about not wanting to bring in the outside produce at closing time. “What’s your problem? I swear, David, sometimes you make me want to throw you over my knee and give you a good—” Patrick stopped dead at the look on David’s face, which he was trying to school, biting the inside of his cheek but practically vibrating with how much he hoped Patrick would go ahead and do it.

“David,” Patrick said, after a long few moments of ominous silence. “Are you— This entire week, have you been trying to get me to...”

“Um. Maybe?” David said, squinting up one side of his face in a way that he hoped was endearing.

“Unbelievable.” Patrick shook his head slowly. “Unbe-fucking-lievable.” 

Patrick almost never swore; this was good, he was really pissed off now, definitely mad enough to do it, and David’s entire body felt like a live wire trembling with hope and anticipation. 

“Don’t come over tonight,” Patrick said. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk to you again.” He stalked right past David and out the door, leaving him to finish closing up the store on his own.

*

“You know, there’s a right way and a wrong way to go about getting someone to participate in one of your sexual fantasies,” Patrick said, when he came by the store at closing time the next day, after twenty-four endless, agonizing hours of radio silence. “Actually, there’s probably a few right ways and a lot of wrong ways,” Patrick amended. “What category would you say your attempts to manipulate me this week would fall into?”

“The wrong way,” David said quickly. “Absolutely and totally wrong. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and I completely get it now. I’m sorry I tried to manipulate you.”

“Good,” Patrick said. “I’m glad you get it.”

“Um, okay, so.” David cleared his throat and glanced at the curtain to the stockroom. “Maybe, just to drive home the point about how wrong it was, I should be, um, punished? Somehow?”

Patrick shut his eyes and bit his lower lip, shaking his head wearily. 

“Okay, so that’s a no on that,” David said. “And now that I’ve said it, I can see that I was basically just doing the exact same thing in a slightly different way. So. Sorry again.”

Patrick blew out a breath and then came over right up close and took him by the shoulders, making steady eye contact that was actually difficult for David to hold at the moment. “You know, David,” he said, “the really annoying thing is that I actually would like to try spanking you, and I’m definitely in the mood to do it. But if I did it now—okay, for one thing I’d run the risk of seriously hurting you, and for another, you kind of _do_ deserve some punishment for the way you acted all week, and this would actually be a reward, am I right?”

David nodded, because it seemed expected. Patrick was here, at least, talking to him, touching him, even, so that was good, and he’d just said the words _I actually would like to try spanking you_ , even if it wasn’t going to happen here and now—it was hard to get his brain to move past that.

“So we’ll talk about it again in a few more days, okay?” Patrick said, and slid one hand down to the swell of David’s ass as he spoke, just resting it there lightly.

David had to clear his throat again. “I, yes. I would like that. Very much. That is...something that I can agree to, yes.”

“Good,” said Patrick, and his hand cupped David’s ass a little more firmly as he kissed him. Possessively, even, David thought, Patrick’s fingertips briefly pressing hard into soft flesh, like a promise.

*

“Have you ever, before?” Patrick asked, a few nights later, in the dark, after sex and before sleep, his hand skating down David’s back to rest on his backside again.

David didn’t have to ask what he meant. “Um. Yeah. Not, like, a real...it wasn’t…” He didn’t actually enjoy the memories that came to mind: people he didn’t like, people who didn’t like him. “It wasn’t good,” he concluded. “I think you’d make it good.”

Patrick absorbed this, his hand stroking up and down lightly over sensitive thin skin. “How?” he wanted to know. “I mean...I’ve got some ideas. But I haven’t ever, with anyone before, not like a whole...I want to know what you want from it.”

Of course he did. It was Patrick. David loved him for it, even as he thought in total exasperation that what he wanted in this case was for Patrick to not _care_ what he wanted, to just take it. 

David took a deep breath and sat up and turned on the bedside light again suddenly, because he wanted Patrick to be able to see his face for this conversation, and he wasn’t going to be able to say it more than once. “I want you to dominate the fuck out of me,” he said. “What you said in the store the other day, that you wanted to turn me over your knee and...that. Make me squirm over your lap, make me hurt, make me beg, I’d feel totally safe with you doing that to me, because I know you’d take care of me after, and that you’d stop right away if I ever told you to stop. That’s what I want.” 

He left the light on for another few seconds, because the look on Patrick’s face of surprise shifting to hunger and then to something like tenderness was sort of...everything, but then it was too much, and David turned out the light again and lay down again, on his back this time, trying to control his breathing.

Patrick’s hand found David’s face in the dark, thumb stroking over his cheekbone, and he kissed David lightly on the jaw. “That’s a lot to process,” he said. “I can work with that, though. Thank you.”

“It was really hard to say!”

“I know,” Patrick breathed into his neck, and kissed him again, and again, and then gave him a hard little nip, right over David’s pulse point, making him gasp. “I appreciate it a lot. And I’m gonna show you how much I appreciate it, once I have some time to think it over a little more.”

“Mmm, how much time, though?” David wanted to know. He felt raw and exposed; he felt like he’d been waiting for this forever, although he had to admit the build of anticipation was exciting. 

“A little while,” Patrick said infuriatingly, and gave him another quick kiss on the neck and then nuzzled into his shoulder, settling in for sleep. 

*

Patrick didn’t mention it again until two days later. They were shopping at the big grocery store in Elmdale, and David was trying to decide if any of the zucchini looked decent enough to be worth it or too tired, when Patrick came up behind him and murmured “Paddle or bare hand?”

David dropped the three zucchini he was holding and had to stoop to pick them up. “That’s a very unprofessional question to ask me at this time and place, isn’t it?” 

“We’re not at work,” Patrick pointed out, with that particularly angelic look he got sometimes when he was being terrible. 

“Bare hand,” David said, and shivered a little at the incongruous intimacy of saying _bare_ in the Freshmart produce aisle.

“Mmm, I thought so, too,” Patrick said. “How are we on bread, should I pick up another loaf?”

*

And then that evening, coming up behind him again when David had changed into sleep sweats and a t-shirt and was brushing his teeth: “I won’t ever do it when I’m actually annoyed with you. I won’t use it to punish you. Not for real. I wouldn’t be okay with that.”

David met Patrick’s eyes in the mirror. “Okay,” he said, and spat and rinsed his mouth, then turned to face him. “You seem to be thinking about this a lot today.”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot all week,” Patrick said, looking at David like he was a fucking _snack_ , and pushed him up against the bathroom door frame and kissed the breath out of him. He ground up against David’s thigh, letting him feel how hard he was getting already, and David was still holding his toothbrush, for god’s sake—was this really happening, now?

Patrick pulled away and was gone, then, leaving him reeling. “Come to bed,” he said. “I hope you didn’t leave the cap off the toothpaste again,” he added.

“What? No!” David looked back to be sure. “I’ve done that, like, _twice_ ,” he said indignantly. “Once when I thought you hadn’t brushed yet so I was just saving you time, and once when—”

“Work with me here, David,” Patrick said from the bed, where he was sitting on the edge with his legs spread, waiting.

“Oh,” David said, coming closer. “ _Oh._ I mean, I might have. I probably did, in fact. So what?” 

“So maybe you need a reminder to listen to me when I tell you to do something,” Patrick suggested, in his really reasonable _I’m not letting you get away with this_ voice that always made David go slightly weak. “Get over here.”

“Okay, but I do just have to say that toiletries and cosmetics are really not something I’m careless about, in general,” David pointed out, hesitating. “So, maybe not the _most_ realistic, but—”

“I’ll think of something better next time. Right now I want you to get over here. Unless you’ve changed your mind about wanting this,” Patrick added in a different voice, looking a little worried, which was sweet, but much less hot.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” David said quickly. “It’s true, you know, I never fucking listen to you when you tell me to do something,” he said, coming over to stand right in front of Patrick. “What are you going to do about that?”

“I’m going to spank your bare ass until you beg me to stop,” Patrick said easily, and David shut his eyes; his knees were actually starting to tremble. “Get across my lap, David. Now.”

*

It was awkward getting into position, and embarrassing to think how he must look, ass up over Patrick’s right thigh. Then Patrick drew down his sweatpants just enough to expose him and delivered the first stinging smack right away, and David forgot to care how he looked. “More,” he gasped, shifting against Patrick’s lap, already feeling his dick start to rise. “Oh, god, Patrick. Please. I need this.”

“I know what you need,” Patrick said, pushing up David’s t-shirt and tugging his pants down a little more. “I’m gonna give it to you, baby. Say _stop_ if you need me to stop, any time, okay?” He didn’t wait for David to answer, but smacked him again in the same spot, and then again, hard, and David choked back a yelp. It stung; it stung _so good_. 

“Like that, yes,” he gasped, when Patrick paused. “I’ll tell you when it’s too much, I promise, just please, please—” He was almost fully hard now, squirming against Patrick’s thigh, and then Patrick widened his legs so he wasn’t getting direct friction anymore as he gave him another hard spank, another and another, and David groaned.

“You’re already so red,” Patrick told him. “God, you’re going to have my handprints all over your ass when I’m done with you. You’re going to feel it every time you move. Still okay?” he asked, because David had gone nonverbal. David nodded wildly, face buried in the bedding. “Good,” Patrick said. He stroked his left hand down the back of David’s head, then brought it to rest on his lower back, holding him in place as his right hand settled into a steady rhythm of firm, punishing strokes.

Lost in sensation, lost in Patrick, David wasn’t sure what kind of sounds he was making any more, but he was pretty sure none of them had sounded anything like _stop_ when Patrick paused again a few minutes later. Or maybe it was a lot of minutes later; David had lost track. “Sorry,” Patrick said, shaking out his hand. “Okay, kind of need you to check in with me again, David; you’re really, really red and you’re sort of...trembling a lot, are you…”

David came back to himself enough to recognize that he was a mess. His eyes were watering, his cock was leaking, and all he wanted was for Patrick to go back to what he’d been doing, but Patrick was sliding out from under him now, making David turn over onto his back. “Hey,” Patrick said, worried, brushing at David’s face with his thumb. “You said you’d say stop. I believed you. Why didn’t you—”

“I didn’t want you to stop,” David whispered. “That was good, Patrick, that was so...so _fucking_ good, I can’t describe it, I just want more, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Patrick said, kissing the inside corners of his eyes. “ _I’m_ sorry. It’s...kind of too much for me, a little, maybe. I didn’t realize. I don’t like...seeing you get hurt.”

David’s eyes were still watering, but his mouth wanted to twist around a half grin, too; it was so _Patrick_. “You can say stop, too,” he told him. “It’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Patrick said. He kissed him on the mouth, now, softly, then reached down and lightly touched David’s cock, which was still almost fully hard and very wet at the tip. David arched his back and bit his lip. “God, you were so close, weren’t you,” Patrick marveled, and David nodded. “So, I had another idea,” Patrick said, and reached beneath the bed for the box they kept there. “Get across my lap again,” he instructed. 

It was no less awkward the second time, and this time David felt the hot stretch of the skin all across his ass as he shifted himself into place. He really was going to be very sore tomorrow. He could hear the sounds of the lube being uncapped, so it wasn’t a surprise, but he still flinched at the cool touch of Patrick’s slick fingers against him, rubbing around his asshole and then dipping inside, opening him. 

“Okay?” Patrick said.

“Really, really, _really_ okay,” David said, short of breath again, his hips starting to hitch as his cock sought friction and his ass sought deeper penetration. A more familiar kind of torture, but still delicious. Patrick slid two fingers all the way in and out of him a few times, fucking him, and then withdrew them entirely just before it became a good rhythm he could work with.

“Hey,” David protested.

“Shh. Hold still,” Patrick ordered, and then opened him again and pressed something into him. A plug, David realized as it entered him deeply, and he gasped, back arching and toes curling. The long thin one with the curve that hit him right...there. 

“Fuck, Patrick,” he pleaded. “Can you...touch me, please, I can’t—” He couldn’t get to his own dick, caught against Patrick’s thighs, and he couldn’t squirm or thrust with the plug inside him. “God, I need to come, I need it, please,” he begged.

“I’ve got you,” Patrick told him. “I’m gonna make you, David, you’re gonna come so hard for me—” and got his left hand in between his legs to encircle David’s cock, slick and warm, and then he spanked him again, not hard, but with his palm striking right at the base of the plug. One, two, three, four sharp little smacks, and David was crying out and shaking as he came. He was vaguely aware that he was being frighteningly loud, but the mix of pain and pleasure was too intense as it shot through him in a rush of release; all he could do was ride it out for as long as it lasted.

As soon as he could, he slid off the bed, down on his knees between Patrick’s spread legs and started mouthing at him through his jeans, working the button and zipper open with insistent hands. “No—” Patrick tried to protest. “Later, later, okay, you’re—it’s fine, you don’t have to.” David ignored him and got his cock out; it was rock hard, and Patrick’s thighs were trembling beneath his hands. He wanted to give Patrick everything in the entire world, a pink Cadillac and a mansion on Central Park West and a gold-plated guitar with diamond frets, but deep-throating him would have to do, and probably Patrick would appreciate that the most anyway, especially right now.

It was the messiest and most inelegant blowjob David could remember having given in a long, long, while, but Patrick was so close to the edge that it hardly mattered. He held on to David’s head and thrust up into his mouth while David opened his throat gratefully and swallowed around him, moaning with pleasure. He loved it when Patrick was too turned on to be as careful as usual, but it was hardly any time at all before he heard Patrick’s desperate _oh, oh, oh god David, I’m, I’m gonna,_ and then felt the hot bitter spurt at the back of his throat. He swallowed hard, fingers tight on Patrick’s hips so he couldn’t pull away, and Patrick let him take it, every drop. It was perfect, the most perfect thing. 

Patrick carefully withdrew himself from David’s mouth and slid down onto the floor beside him. For a while they both just lay there in a tangled, limp wreck next to the bed, breathing hard, both of them still mostly dressed but utterly destroyed. It was amazing, David thought sometimes, the state they could reduce each other to, using just their bodies. Their bodies and the occasional well-molded piece of silicone, he amended, wincing as he drew the plug out of himself and set it aside.

“Here, let me—” Patrick got to his feet and helped David back onto the bed, then took the toy into the bathroom and returned with a warm damp cloth.

“All this over a toothpaste tube cap,” David mused, as Patrick got him out of his clothes and cleaned him up. “What happens from now on if I leave the milk out on the counter overnight? Whips and chains?”

Patrick laughed, but it was shaky, and David was a little nervous, suddenly. It was Patrick’s first time doing anything like this, and he’d sort of had to safeword out of it at one point; maybe it was too much. David scooted over closer to him on his stomach and nuzzled Patrick’s hip. “Hey,” he said. “Thank you. I love you. I knew you’d make it good. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, sounding almost sure. “Are you?” 

David had to smile; he probably looked like a big dopey dork, but couldn’t help it. He was still buzzing hard with the endorphin rush and he could tell his ass was going to be tender for days, reminding him of tonight. “I’ve never felt better,” he told Patrick, very seriously. “Did you really leave handprints?” He propped himself up on his elbows and angled his head around, wishing he could see.

“Finger marks, anyway,” Patrick said, examining his work. “I’ll take pictures if you let me delete them immediately.”

“Definitely,” David agreed, hoping he could find a way to surreptitiously text them to himself before Patrick got rid of them. “Um. You know we don’t ever have to do that again, if it wasn’t fun for you; I loved it, but I love everything we do in bed. It was an experiment, that’s all.”

“I don’t know if fun is the right word,” Patrick said slowly. “But I do want to do it again. Maybe not right away. I’ve got a lot of other ideas.”

David shivered all over inside at the thought of what Patrick’s other ideas might be. “I can’t wait,” he said.


End file.
